Trust Fund Kids
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“All of us, swanky house, right on the beach, great weather, lots of booze. What do you say?"
Graham was nothing if not persuasive: not only had he acquired a luxurious beachfront house in the Hamptons for two weeks in July, he’d managed to convince their boss to give him, Richard, and a handful of their closest work buddies two weeks off so they could go and enjoy the hell out of it.
It was supposed to be an exercise in learning how the other half lived, and pretending for a couple of short weeks that they were part of it – a task that was made even easier once they befriended their new neighbours, a bunch of trust fund kids that liked a good time and could afford to have it.
(Richard refused to let his enthusiasm be dampened by the fact that one of them was, without a doubt, the most obnoxious, egotistical, offensively flirtatious prick that he had ever met.)
What it wasn’t meant to be was the first in a series of idyllic summers that changed everything.
“The problem is, do most people want to go through all this?” he cracks open the shell with ease. He proceeds to dip the flesh in butter and tip it back for a taste of the brains.
No, he decides, settling with the version that would require more work in the kitchen, but less in the dining room.